Remembrance of Grief
by Riveraldiez
Summary: Nero knew any kinds of rumor about Sparda, but it wouldn't hurt to hear a story directly from one of the Legendary Dark Knight's own son.


**Disclaimer :** **Devil May Cry copyrighted by Capcom**. I own this fic only.

 **Caution :** **Spoiler** for **DMC3** and **DMC4**.

* * *

Dusk drew closer as the sun began to set. One by one, lampposts on the street switched on, especially ones that directed to where Devil May Cry was.

Usually, Nero would come to the shop in the morning through afternoon merely to kill time, and if he was lucky, sometimes doing a job for killing demons. However, he decided to stay longer that night, too lazy to go home.

Nero was sitting on a sofa, reading a magazine when Dante called out to him. "What?"

"What day is... —no, never mind. Is it full moon outside tonight?"

Raising an eyebrow, Nero glanced up to the man. "I think so. You're gonna have a date, old man?" he snickered out.

"Might be..." Dante smirked, hands polishing the barrel of Ivory before putting it to its holster. "Or I might not. Watch over the shop for me, will you?"

Before the younger could utter back a retort, Dante was already gone behind closed doors.

It was Lady who marched in a few moments later, much to Nero's dismay. He stopped himself from yelling out his complaints about watching over the shop to her.

"Oh, fancy meeting you here, Nero," the woman smiled to him. "Where is Dante?"

"I don't know. He just barged out without telling me anything."

"Is that so? Well, don't mind him," Lady chuckled. She invited herself to sit on the sofa across from Nero, putting down Kalina-Ann and reloading her firearms. Both did not say anything after that, enjoying the hanging silence in the air.

The door opened again. This time Trish walked in, with dried blood adorned her boots. She smiled to Nero before strolling away to the backroom. A moment later, she walked back in, allowing herself to sit cross-legged on Dante's desk.

"I assume he had gone off there?" the demoness suddenly asked. To that question, Lady scoffed while Nero visibly puzzled.

"Didn't you see above the sky before you come? Tonight is the time." Lady said whilst cleaning dried blood from her bayonet.

"Time for what?" Nero was not sure why he even cared enough to ask.

Not to mention both females instantaneously stared to him now.

* * *

In an abandoned church in Fortuna City, Dante sat all by himself. The building itself was a leftover from the last incident with The Order and Savior. Aside from thrashed out chairs, damaged floors, and missing rooftop, the place was still intact.

A statue of Sparda in the stage seemingly unharmed—by some miracles—basking in moonlight from above.

Only silence filled the air, which Dante felt grateful.

"Dante?"

The half-demon did not budge on his chair. He heard footsteps came close by, undoubtedly approaching him.

Nero heaved a sigh. He walked closer to the older man and sat on a half-broken chair behind Dante. "Fancy meeting you here, of all places."

Dante shrugged. "I could ask the same to you, kid."

"How should I not know every church in Fortuna?" Nero rolled his eyes. Crossing his arms, he looked toward the only undamaged thing that came to his vision. Of course, it was none other than the statue of Sparda. "...So this is where you grief over the past."

A small chuckle escaped from Dante. "Is that what the girls said to you?"

"Does it matter if it is not?"

"No, no..." Dante let his eyes wandered to the statue. "Not grief. I actually prefer the term 'remembrance'."

Dante did not hear the kid say anything. When something pressed on his shoulder, he turned his head back—only to find himself facing a sheathed sword there.

Yamato.

"Remembrance, right?" Nero said in a gruff tone, averting his eyes down. "Only for tonight."

Wordlessly, Dante took the sword. He pulled it out from the sheath, seemingly glad. The blade was still as good as he had remembered the last time he saw it. Only missing the yellow _sageo_.

"Still remember how I said this was originally my brother's?" Dante muttered softly, still admiring the glowing light from the moon on Yamato's blade.

"What was he like?" Nero asked in a low tone. "Your brother, I mean. He's a half-demon like you, right?"

Dante sheathed back Yamato. "Yeah, we're twins. You gotta have a good look of him from my face, kid. Although, if I were you, I won't bet on it."

Nero snickered. "Like hell I would,"

"What's with that look? I'm not lying," Dante snickered back. "Minus the fact that we're polar opposites of each other. He likes blue; I'm more into red. He may not a biggest ladies' man, but I'm the hottest womanizer out there," he trailed off. "...Everything about us is like a reflection on a mirror."

Nero heard something akin to sarcasm behind those words, but said nothing. He wanted the old man to continue, to hear for himself the tale between Sons of Sparda.

"...We were always fighting, even for a small little thing. He looks up to our Father—his sense of justice, honor, intelligence and wisdom. Stuffs happen, leaving us to trail our own way. Until one day... we crossed paths," Dante paused, recalling their confrontation at Temen-Ni-Gru. "...he sent me a gift as invitation."

Nero raised a brow curiously. "What was it?"

"What do you think? I had to chase his ass throughout the tower for that. When we met at last, I got my ass handed back to me," Dante laughed darkly. "...Though, I think that was the first time I heard him openly saying his true intention to me. He ran after taking my amulet, so I chase him for the second time."

Dante paused again, licking his lips. "...When the real douche-bag decided to show itself, we fought together. It was my first and my last tag battle with him."

"You crossed path again?" Nero questioned lowly. He might not there when it happened, but the way Dante said it was like saying goodbye. He was not surprised when the old man let out a hollow chortle.

"In a sense, yes. In another, no."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Ah, that..." a flashback in Mallet Island nudged inside Dante's mind. "Let me tell you another time."

* * *

After giving back Yamato, Dante smirked upon watching Nero sat still in his seat. "Still want to tag along with me, kid?"

"Hell no," the younger said, rolling his eyes. "...Whatever. I still don't get as to why you would hand me the sword. Wasn't it an heirloom of some sort?"

"Correct. And who else could keep it aside from a lineage of Sparda other than me?"

Nero glared at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"What? Didn't I tell you the story of your Father just now?"

"I do _not_ have a Father," the younger spat. "Screw you."

"Ouch, that stings, kid. Your Father will cry when he heard that," Dante laughed mockingly. Then he remembered it was the same thing he said to Vergil a long time ago. "...Oh, well. Whatever. Let's go home."

* * *

 **( Fin )**

* * *

 **A/N :** Originally, I was going to stretch out until the event in Mallet Island, but dismissed it. Bianco and Alto Angelo in DMC4 were created from Nelo Angelo's remains, that would put the chronological timeline to 3 - 1 - 2 - 4 (not counting novels and manga). Nero is kind of a parallel of Dante to me, should his Father is truly the elder twin. He'd hate his Father who abandoned him, just as Dante despised Sparda.


End file.
